Well, my blissful morning sickness-free days are over. The hormones have kicked into high gear and although I never puke, I walk around feeling like I should be carrying a bucket with me -- just in case.
The nausea is the worst when I have an empty stomach. So when I woke up yesterday to find a gallon of milk with only a swig in the bottom, making my morning bowl of cereal an impossibility, I nearly cried. Right there in front of my fridge. With Toby looking at me like I'm a complete idiot.
Jerry got home from work an hour later and I nearly mauled him when he suggested grabbing a bite to eat before we hit the grocery store. There's no way I would've made it walking around in a wonderland of sustanence on an empty stomach, trying to ignore the fact that I might hurl at any moment.
But it had to be breakfast. The only thing that would be better than a bowl of cereal is a huge pile of cheesy eggs, a stack of pancakes and an entire gallon of orange juice. And if there's any way to convince Jerry to leave the house on a weekend, Denny's is it.
So after stocking up on a Grand Slam, Jerry and I reluctantly agreed to get groceries. But for absolutely hating the chore, we sure do a good job of filling a cart.
Then, about halfway through the store, I realized that a really full stomach is no better than an empty one. When we approached the seafood counter, I nearly retched at the sight of it. And, ironically, I'd been craving a fresh cut of salmon all week.
By the time we made it to the store's mid-way point I wanted to die. The sight of all that food was making me sick. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, take a nap and forget about the fact that I need all this disgusting edible stuff to survive.
I tried hanging in there, but Jerry could tell I was waning. (Probably because I got really cranky and kept complaining about how I needed to vomit.) So we picked up the pace at his insistance that "I need to get you outta here," realizing that he didn't want to tell our cashier about a cleanup needed in aisle 19.
The only moment I felt really good was the bread aisle. My sense of smell is rediculously strong these days and it was as if I walked into a bakery. It smelled like my mom's kitchen after she makes a batch of her oatmeal bread and it soothed me.
Strangely enough, by the time we got to the checkout, I was hungry again. So I started scanning our purchases to see what I'd dig into as soon as we got home.
Most of it still didn't look appetising, which depressed me to no end. But there, amid the pile, was a shining jar of goodness. Oh! And some of that, too!
Then I realized how utterly cliche I was.
The only things I wanted in our entire obscene grocery purchase was pickles and ice cream.